Page 28 of How To Catch A Killer … And Date His Best Friend

We step out onto the sidewalk and the early morning air is much cooler than when I came through only a few short hours ago. The street is quieter than usual, and as I lead Lyra to my bike, I grab the helmet off my handlebars.

I pause beside the bike and lift it to her head, and she waits patiently as I fix it into place, my fingers brushing over her jaw as she stares up at me with those big green eyes, daring me to either sweep her away or bite her. I can’t really tell yet.

After fastening the buckle under her chin, I bop the top of her head and smile down at her. “Cute.”

“I look like a giant bobblehead.”

“A hot bobblehead.”

She steps up next to my bike, really looking it over, and I can all but read her thoughts. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Come on, let me drive.”

I bark out a laugh so fast I almost offend myself. “Hell no.”

She looks up at me with those big green eyes, laying it on thick, and while that might work for everything else, it’s a hard pass when it comes to my bike.

Swinging one leg over the bike, I settle into place and fix her with a stare of my own. “Savage, you can bat those pretty eyes at me all you want, but no matter how good you taste, how loud you scream, or pant for more, nobody drives my bike, but me.”

Lyra lets out a small huff before finally caving, and stepping in close. She rests her hand on my shoulder, grasping it tight, before swinging one leg over the sleek bike. Looking over my shoulder, I see her eyes sparkling, and she tries to stifle her smirk as she settles in behind me.

“Hold on tight,” I say.

Her hands slide along my waist, curling around my body, and instead of holding on, they move over my chest and abs, exploring, wandering, clutching onto the front of my thighs, and touching me everywhere but the one place I crave her the most.

Jesus Christ. This girl.

I’m in trouble.

I try to block it out, but I know this is going to be the ride from hell. “Ready?” I ask.

She nods, and without skipping a beat, I flick my fingers over her helmet, letting the visor close in front of her eyes before finally kicking over the bike and letting the engine roar to life in the street.

“Let’s go,” I call over the engine, and not a moment later, I take off into the street, letting my bike do the fucking talking.

The wind whips through her hair as I fly down the road, letting her feel the adrenaline of the ride, all while she crushes her slender body against mine, her full tits pressed against my back as her fingers clutch at my body.

We ride for half an hour, cutting through the streets of Onyx Heights, and by the time I’m pulling to a stop outside my home, I’ve never been so fucking hard in my life. It’s undoubtedly clear to me that I like this girl more than I should, yet I can’t seem to find a solid reason to pull away.

Riding right up onto my driveway, I kill the engine near the door, and her body instantly relaxes around mine. Lyra takes my shoulder and helps herself off my bike before staring up at my house.

“Is this your place?” she asks with a deep suspicion as I reach for the clip under her chin and start to free her from the confines of the helmet.

“Mm-hmm.”

Lyra laughs to herself. “Maddox Blake, did you bring me here to fuck me in your bed?”

I grin before running a hand through my wind-blown hair. “No,” I tell her honestly, “but if we end up there, I’m not going to be mad about it.”

She rolls her eyes, and just as she goes to say something, she cuts herself off, her gaze dropping to my forearm. “Is that . . .” She pauses as she reaches for her phone. “Is that a QR code tattoo?”

“Woah,” I say, rushing to my feet and holding my hand up to keep her from scanning the code. “This is the result of alcohol and poor planning.”

“Let me see.”

“No.”

“Yes.”